


The Opposite Of Chaos

by rainingover



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe, Light Angst, M/M, Memory Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7781038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainingover/pseuds/rainingover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not the most customary way to end a relationship: forgetting each other, literally. But that doesn’t stop it from being a valid ending. At least this is what Himchan argues when Yongguk shakes his head and says, "I don't know. Are you sure this isn't going to end up with one of you crying in my apartment?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Opposite Of Chaos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [minnitoki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnitoki/gifts).



> Dear Minnitoki, I hope you enjoy!

The bar is busy, but this is no surprise to Himchan; it's happy hour on the day before New Year’s Eve and people are starting their celebrations early.

An elbow digs into Himchan's side as someone brushes past him at the bar, beer sloshing over the edge of their glass as it does.

It’s awkward and his shirt is going to be ruined, but Himchan doesn't care about that. He focuses on holding his breath as the owner of the overflowing beer glass smiles and mumbles an apology as he reaches out towards Himchan’s wet sleeve briefly. Himchan’s heart races as he does.

And then he is gone, lost in the crowds across the room until he emerges in the corner, near the window, sliding into a booth and laughing, his hand covering his mouth as he does.

Himchan feels a pang of fondness, of sadness and longing.

He doesn’t mean to keep glancing over towards the corner booth, it’s just-- he's _there_ , in the room, in his peripheral vision. It’s difficult not to.

Himchan catches his eye for a fraction of a second, and it's a cliche, and it's stupid, but Himchan's breath hitches in his throat and he swears he senses something in his gaze. But then, too quickly, he’s looking away, back towards his friends, still laughing, still holding his hand up to his face, and the moment is gone.

Himchan leaves without finishing his drink.

 

 

 

**[Seven months earlier]**

 

It's not the most customary way to end a relationship: forgetting each other, literally. But that doesn’t stop it from being a valid ending. At least this is what Himchan argues when Yongguk shakes his head and says, "Are you sure this isn't going to end up with one of you crying in my apartment?"

"People can't be missed if you don't remember them being there,” Himchan replies. "If me and Jongup erase each other from our memories, neither of us will have anything to cry about at all."

"I guess." Yongguk doesn't look convinced. "It just sounds a bit-- risky?”

"It’s not dangerous. I mean, no more than any other neurological trial procedure is.” Himchan knows he isn’t selling this well. Adds, “Look, I know it seems weird, but it starts to make sense when you’ve read all of the pamphlets and stuff."

Yongguk sits back in his chair. He’s wearing his Sensible Adult face, which Himchan knows has always suited Yongguk better than it suits himself even though their birthdays are only a few months apart. "Is this about money? Because if it is I can help..."

Himchan frowns, cuts in with, "I don't want your money. Which, by the way, I'm fully aware you don't have much of. I saw your account balance before we came in here.”

Yongguk’s mouth twitches. “You aren’t meant to watch people at ATM machines, you know.”

Himchan ignores this. “You're almost as broke as we are. Well-- not quite. Not by a long shot, actually. We are _very_ broke, which is just one of the reasons why we’ve decided to do this. The pay is... It’s a lot. Enough money to cover our debts. Enough for-- enough for Jongup to pay off his parent's medical bills and to think about grad school. Enough for me to cover his side of our rent easily when he moves back home, to pay off my credit cards and maybe more if I really try."

Yongguk is silent for a long time. "Isn’t this procedure designed for people with bad memories? To forget bad break-ups or toxic people. And you and Jongup don't seem-- I mean, you’ve been together for, what, two years now? I've never seen two people who clearly dote on each other more.”

"Yes, well…” Himchan bites his lip. "Look, his parents are struggling. We're struggling. We can hardly afford our rent, I have debt up to my eyeballs, and I know Jongup's given up any dream he had of going to grad school because of money, and... One day it’ll drag us down. So why not do this? Help science, live more comfortably and suffer no heartbreak."

"So, we just never mention your relationship again? Pretend he doesn’t exist? You hang out in the same places...”

Himchan shrugs. "He's moving home anyway."

"Not necessarily forever."

"Maybe not." Himchan traces the rim of his wine glass with his finger. "But it doesn't matter if he moves back to town because he won't remember me and I won't remember him."

 

 

They didn’t even mean to start dating, not really. They just sort of ended up together, alone, enjoying themselves, on multiple occasions. It happens.

Jongup knew Youngjae, who knew everyone, including Himchan. And everyone Youngjae knows ends up introduced at some point, so it’s inevitable, really, that they had met. And then they had kept meeting, sometimes on purpose.

“Do you ever feel like Youngjae is trying to set us up?” Himchan had mused, as they'd walked towards a cab stop, having lost Youngjae half an hour earlier to a group of people they didn’t know yet, but he clearly did.

“Maybe it’s Youngjae,” Jongup had replied. “Or maybe it’s just the universe."

"The universe?" Himchan had found he couldn’t help but smile. It seemed to happen a lot around Jongup.

"Yep. It keeps getting us alone.”

“I’ve never thought of it that way, but now you mention it, I like the way the universe thinks.” Himchan hadn’t quite thought of it as flirting at the time, but when they’d recalled the story much later, arguing over who liked who more first as they lay in bed, not long after Jongup moved in, he’d come to realise that it didn’t matter whether he was flirting or not, because everything with Jongup felt natural, felt relaxed.

It helped that from the moment Youngjae had introduced them Himchan could tell that Jongup was laid back, possibly to the extent of being completely horizontal. After that, he might have let his mind wander, thought of him horizontal too. But who would blame him? Jongup was Youngjae’s hottest friend by far, Himchan would admit that openly (and probably had done at some point).

So, they’d flirted, or they hadn’t, it doesn’t matter, really. And the universe had gotten it’s way, because before Himchan had got into his cab that night, they’d swapped numbers.

Their first official date was almost rained off. It ended up with them stood in Himchan’s kitchen, leaning against the counters, waiting for the rain to stop so Jongup could walk back to his place without drowning.

“Thank you for tonight, the food was so good.” Jongup had said for the fourth time.

And Himchan had laughed, had said, “You have to stop saying that, it’s making my ego inflate at an alarming rate. And, anyway, I should be thanking you for coming over in this weather.”

Himchan had gestured towards their empty glasses, discarded on the coffee table across the room and had mentioned something about opening another bottle of wine.

“Don’t you want me to leave when the rain stops?” Jongup had asked, eyes searching Himchan’s.

“Not really.” Himchan had admitted. “I’m happy you’re still here.”

And Jongup had smiled, had replied, “I’m happy too.”

So he hadn’t left when the rain finally stopped, after all.

 

 

Himchan thinks back to these little moments at the start of their relationship as he takes in Jongup's drawn in expression, watching him on the phone to his father one morning in June, two years and fourteen days since they’d made weather related excuses to spend the night together.

Jongup shakes his head softly and says nothing when Himchan asks how his mother is doing after her surgery. He’s thinking about the medical bills, thinking about being far from his family, Himchan can tell. Himchan thinks about it too sometimes.

That night, Himchan pulls Jongup in close, kisses his face, his cheeks, his forehead. Holds him tight and says, "Are you still happy?"

"Happiest," Jongup replies, hands dancing across Himchan's skin, and as his mouth covers Himchan's, just for a second, Himchan wonders if that's really enough for anybody.

 

 

 

When Himchan first texts Jongup the link to a news article about an upcoming medical trial for the ground-breaking memory erasure treatment, about them requiring paid volunteers to test the procedure's ability to erase every memory involving one single person from a human mind, he sends it with a laughing emoji & the words "I've found a way for you to forget about me burning dinner last night."

Jongup replies with something kind, something along the lines of dinner still being delicious and Himchan still being the best cook he knows, and Himchan grins when he receives it.

Neither of them think about the trial for a long time, even if they are skating a fine line between getting by and drowning in responsibility.

But then Himchan is made redundant from what he’d thought was his steady, safe office job. It has never been his dream job, but it's one he has relied on to pay for the roof over his head since he stopped speaking to his parents. And then Jongup's mother has to go into hospital again, for longer this time, maybe for a long, long time. Jongup sits down on the sofa one night, playing with the hem of his shorts as he says, "My Dad can't cope-- with the medical bills. It's-- I'm going to move home for a while. I'll need to leave work for a while and-- and I won't be able to contribute to the rent here and-- I'm sorry. I wish I could be here and there, but--"

"I get it." Himchan stills Jongup's fidgeting hand with his own. "Your parents need you; I get it."

And _then_  they discuss it.

Jongup says, "I can't even believe what I'm reading." He holds the pamphlet above their heads as they lie side by side on their bed and reads aloud, "The Taylor Science Educational Neurology Centre requires young, healthy volunteers to take part in one of the most cutting edge neurological procedures of modern times."

He scoffs.

Himchan takes over. Reads in a steady voice, "Advanced localised memory erasure is designed to remove all memories of one single person from the human memory and could be the most important scientific breakthrough of this century," and then laughs. "God, you'd think they could be putting this effort into-- I don't know, curing diseases."

"True,” Jongup agrees. “But, I guess memory erasure is a pretty lucrative sounding market."

"It must be, the amount they pay out to volunteers at this stage in the trials." He prods at the figure, written in bold, red font at the end of the pamphlet.

Jongup breathes out. "Shit. That's -- that's like a year's rent."

"More! That's like-- it’s like medical bill pay off kind of money,” Himchan points out. Because it is, he isn’t going to lie. It’s the sort of money that could change their lives. Just not together.

Jongup nods slowly. "It really is."

And as much as Himchan wants to believe that loving each other is more important than the prospect of not seeing red in their (or their parents') checking account, the weight of it is already dragging them down: worries over fiscal responsibility, nagging voices at the back of Himchan's mind wondering if good things ever last, asking him whether, in the long run, it would be best to call it a day when things are good, and not look back.

 

 

 

A week later, they open the bedroom window as wide as it will go, push their bed back so they can lie directly underneath and lie down, crane their necks to look for stars beyond the smog of the city.

There aren’t any to be seen.

"If we-- if we do this, if we sign up, we're choosing money over each other, aren't we? What does that say about us?" Jongup has his eyes closed as he speaks and his forehead is creased a little.

"That we're real people." Himchan watches his eyebrows furrow. “I suppose, at least if we do it together, it won't-- it will be painless. One day we're together, the next we never were."

Jongup opens one eye. "Well, I guess it's true that you can't miss what you never had."

"Or at least, what you don't remember having," Himchan says.

Jongup closes his eye again and groans. "This is so messed up, but-- my parents owe so much money, Himchan. My father cried last time I went to visit. He-- I’ve not seen him cry since I was seven. And, it feels weird, but the more I read from the TS Institute the more it sounds like the perfect break-up." He laughs, incredulous. “They clearly have a genius marketing department.”

“Yep.” Himchan rolls onto his side and says, "Watching my sister and her husband drift apart over stupid little things was excruciating even for a bystander. I can’t imagine us that way, but maybe neither could they, when they were younger. Maybe this is the way everyone should break up."

Jongup looks up at him and for a minute Himchan can’t even believe they’re having this conversation. Maybe Jongup can’t either, as he says, "In an ideal world we wouldn't break up, ever."

"If this was an ideal world, this trial wouldn't have even be dreamt up,” Himchan points out.

“True. And I'd be four inches taller.” Jongup grins.

“I'd drive a Porche and have an underground wine cellar." Himchan laughs with him, throws the pamphlet over the side of the bed and says, loudly, "Hey-- universe? If this is the wrong thing to do, just give us a sign, okay?"

They hold hands underneath the duvet, fall asleep as they wait for a response.

The universe doesn't seem to be listening.

 

 

 

They sign on the dotted line. It comes after pages and pages of small print: Reminders of what you can't sue the institute over (basically anything), reminders of the risks, the possible side effects. Reminders that this procedure is very much in its early stages, that they’re part of something big and new and unknown.

Reminders of the large lump sum, tax free, that will be deposited into their checking account within forty eight hours of the procedure finishing.

They're given their appointment date: June fifth. It's all kind of surreal.

They have six days to go when Himchan tells Yongguk of their plan, tries to explain why they’re doing this and asks if he can have his Volunteer Discharge Package sent to Yongguk’s apartment after the procedure.

The Volunteer Discharge Package is the fancy name the institute give to the envelope enclosing the signed paperwork forfeiting their right to complain about pretty much anything that occurs, and a tiny white piece of card on which they leave you with the name of the person you've had erased from your memory, just in case you ever want, or need, to know. "You can keep it in your wardrobe, behind all your music stuff and the vintage '70s porn you think is art,” Himchan tells Yongguk when he explains.

"It is art," Yongguk replies, but he agrees to take Himchan's paperwork for him nonetheless.

 

 

 

There’s an air of apprehension in their apartment on the night before the procedure.

"I love you." Himchan wraps his arms around Jongup's body and pulls his close. His warm skin feels like home and there’s an ache in his chest for a second, one he ignores.

"I love you too." Jongup presses a kiss to Himchan's mouth. "I really, really love you."

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" Himchan asks between kisses.

"I don't know," Jongup replies, honestly.

"Me neither." Himchan closes his eyes rests his forehead against Jongup's. "Are you all packed?"

Jongup murmurs in response. Then says, "Actually, the only thing I haven't done is deleted the photos of you in my phone. Hey, did you know you've send me twenty six not-safe-for-work pics since we started dating?"

Himchan laughs."I thought it was more." He'd deleted all of Jongup's texts, all of the stupid videos, all traces of him from his phone the night before, lying on their sofa with his head on Jongup’s lap, holding his phone in front of Jongup’s face to show him all of funny photos and the text exchanges from when they first got together before he'd clicked delete.

It had been sad to see their history disappear, but necessary. "Don't forget to delete the photos, though, alright?"

"I'll do it before we go into the procedure. The last thing I do." Jongup says, decisively.

"The last thing? My body isn't that great." Himchan pulls away slightly and rolls his eyes, but he’s enjoying the compliment.

Jongup shakes his head, wears a lopsided grin and a glint in his eyes as he says, "Your body is phenomenal," and kisses him hard.

Later, Himchan leans up on his elbow, the window pushed open behind their bed, noise from the street below a welcome distraction from the next day. He says, "Your parents are so nice. They deserve to have you in their lives again. Have you told them that you’re going to be able to pay off the bills?"

"Not yet" Jongup tugs at Himchan's arm until he shifts closer, right into Jongup's side. He's still warm, always so warm. "You know, I've been thinking, and you should invest some of your money, buy into a wine bar or something like you've always dreamt of."

"Maybe."

“Say you’ll do it," Jongup says and then pulls him down on top of him again until he does.

 

 

 

The next morning they wake up slowly, lie in bed until they hear the door slam in the apartment above. Himchan knows that means it's nearing 8am; the salary man upstairs rushing to the elevator to make his train to work, same as every morning.

"What shall we do for our last day together?" Himchan muses, as he memorises the lines on Jongup's face.

Jongup turns to face him, looks him in the eye and says, “Shall we ask the universe?”

Himchan grins. “Hmmm, I think the universe wants us to spend the day in bed, do you agree?”

And Jongup closes the gap between their bodies and the gap between their mouths and laughs against Himchan's lips as Himchan struggles to kick the duvet off from around them. Jongup asks, "Is the universe a voyeur now?"

"If I was the universe I'd wanna see your naked ass every day, so maybe it is. But mainly it's just way too fucking hot this morning," Himchan says against Jongup's hair as Jongup runs tiny kisses down Himchan's neck.

Jongup pauses. A teasing lilt to his voice. "Should I stop so you can cool down?"

"No," Himchan says, so he doesn't.

 

 

 

Himchan wonders, as he buttons up his shirt and watches Jongup bent over his case, ready for Junhong to pick up after they leave, if they're making a terrible, horrible mistake.

And then he remembers the bank turning down his application for more credit, remembers the look on Jongup's face that last time he came back from visiting his mother in hospital. Remembers how excitedly Jongup had talked about the faraway possibility of grad school, and then remembers a million other things in between.

Himchan sucks in a breath and nods at himself in the mirror.

Maybe they are making a terrible mistake, Himchan doesn't know, not really. But, Himchan muses, even if this is the stupidest decision they've made so far in their entire lives, at least in four hours time it will be one mistake they won't remember making.

 

 

 

Jongup's memory erasure works.

Himchan's doesn't.

Himchan knows he read something in the smallprint about the possibility of the procedure failing, but he had easily glossed over it, had been more worried about the insomnia and hot flushes and the other side effects listed than about the prospect of his memories remaining intact.

Sure, the procedure is still officially in testing period, but a memory erasing procedure should erase _something_ , Himchan argues as the doctor scribbles results onto her chart, calls over colleagues, mulls over the failure. Mentions, "Tweaks to the procedure," and then thanks Himchan for his participation, in helping them move one step forwards in their quest to create a perfect memory erasure for future paying customers.

The doctor gives him a bright, but plastered on, smile as she shakes Himchan's hand and reminds him not to drink, or drive, or operate machinery for at least three days. Adds, "And if you experience any of the listed side effects please call us, any hour of the day.” It sounds as though she’s said this all a thousand times.

She probably has.

He still gets the money. The receptionist confirms the address to send his discharge package to, then confirms his bank account details, smiles and says, "Just remember, you won't be able to attempt the procedure again whilst it's in trial. When it - if it - passes all trials and becomes available for public use, you may use it again then after completing a health check with the institute. Enjoy spending this."

The receptionist watches as Himchan signs himself out, his hand shaking as he holds the pen and says, "We can call you a cab if you need one?"

Himchan shakes his head, sits on a plastic chair in the front row of the waiting room and waits for Jongup's procedure to finish. It feels like waiting forever as he tries to work through his thoughts, through what has (or hasn't) just happened, trying not to hope desperately that the procedure fails for Jongup too and wondering why they hadn't thought of this possible outcome.

When Jongup emerges from procedure room number six, he nods in earnest as the receptionist repeats his spiel about the money, about the trial and when it might pass to the next round.

Jongup shakes his head when the receptionist offers to call him a cab, stands two metres from Himchan, his phone pressed to his ear and as he makes a call. Says, "Hi Junhong, can you come pick me up from the institute? I put you down as my next-of-kin kind of thing for this apparently."

He doesn't so much as glance at Himchan.

Himchan feels dizzy all of a sudden, grasps at the arms of the plastic chair as Jongup walks out of the door and away, away from him. Away from them.

The receptionist gives him a pitying look and asks if he's alright.

"Actually, I-- I need to see the doctor. Can I see the doctor?" Himchan stands up and his legs move on their own, head towards the room he had left thirty minutes before. His throat is dry and he doesn't feel so good, although that isn't why he's heading back towards his procedure room.

"You-- sir, you can't go back there!" The receptionist is calling from behind the desk, but Himchan ignores him.

The doctor looks up from her charts as he enters, startled as she says, "You can't come in here," but Himchan is already talking.

"Try it again. Try it again on me," he says, hears desperation in his own voice. Doesn’t care that he sounds pathetic.

The doctor steps closer, now. "You can only complete the trial once. That was made clear, was it not?"

"But if it didn't work then what would be the harm?"

"This is a trial procedure, Mr Kim. There is always a chance these procedures won't work in the way we expect, especially at this level. It was in the paperwork that you signed." She shakes her head. "I'm sorry if you have not received the desired outcome. I assume you have received information on the substantial reimbursement for your time?"

"I don't-- I don't _want_ the money. I want-- please, try it again. It worked for him, it-- It needs to work for me too." Himchan knows he isn't going to get what he wants, but he at least needs to know he asked. Begged, even. He swallows the lump in his throat, adds quietly, "It should have worked for both of us."

"I'm sorry, Mr Kim, but you'll have to leave now." The doctor ushers him back out of the door. "We have other volunteers waiting."

"But--" He doesn't have an argument and he knows it. He took part in the trial - exactly what he signed up for.

When he gets outside of the building he walks and walks in a straight line, walking countless blocks before he realises it's raining. He isn't even sure if he is walking in the correct direction. His phone rings and he answers it on autopilot, hears Yongguk, concern in his voice. "Hey, I thought you'd have called by now, don't you need picking up?"

"I'm walking."

"But it's hail-storming and you're not meant to be alone after this thing in case you've had something else wiped from your memory, like where you live or how to not walk in front of cars."

"I remember where I live," Himchan replies, ends the call. Slips his phone back into his jacket pocket as he mutters to himself, “I remember fucking everything."

 

 

 

Himchan wakes up on the sofa to a drumming in his head and three texts from Yongguk.

He sits up slowly, waits for the nausea to pass. It doesn’t.

He doesn't usually get hangovers, but then he doesn't usually polish off two bottles of wine alone on a Wednesday night, since he's never really felt an intense desire to feel completely numb before. He'd felt it last night, arriving home to an empty apartment, all traces of Jongup carefully removed in the days before, boxes and bags driven round to Junhong's place, a tiny bit of their relationship disappearing each time they shuffled into Junhong's compact studio apartment and left more and more of Jongup's life there.

The last thing had been the essentials - toothbrush, razor, phone. Jongup had packed them up in the morning before they'd headed over to the institute, like he was packing for a night away, rather than a lifetime.

The institute had been pretty clear about it - about removing all traces of the subject of your memory wipe. Not because it would make the procedure any less effective (that was made clear: "Once the memories are gone, they're gone," they'd been told), but because the first round of trials had shown that the intense confusion caused by finding photographs of yourself gazing happily into the eyes of a total stranger could be rather distressing.

And the institute assured that distress was the last of their intentions.

"This procedure is designed to soothe, to bring only happiness," they'd been told at the presentation, the one they'd gone to when they first started talking about signing up. The one at which young medical professionals at the top of their game had stood on a platform, white teeth and whiter coats, and had gone about persuading a room full of potential volunteers that helping them to test out the procedure would be the best thing they'd ever done.

Himchan thinks about what soothes him, what makes him happy, and only Jongup comes to mind.

 

 

Himchan is sitting in at the back of the cafe, at the table furthest away from the window and is nursing the strongest coffee the cafe offers when Yongguk arrives, looking down at him with concern. "You look like shit."

"Yes, I'm aware of that, thank you," Himchan replies. It comes out scathing, ruder than he meant it to.

If Yongguk is offended, he doesn’t say so. "So, the procedure was yesterday..."

"Was it? I'd forgotten." Himchan winces after he says it. He really doesn't want to be a dick, and to his best friend no less, but he's angry. He's so fucking angry, and he's pretty sure Yongguk will forgive him for releasing it using unnecessary sarcasm.

Yongguk ignores his remark. Asks, "So, why have you been ignoring me and Daehyun? You having side effects? Insomnia? Vomiting? Is that why you look like you've been on a bender?"

"No side effects." Himchan runs his hands over his face. "I drank a lot last night. A lot. And then I tried to make that morning-after-drinking concoction Jongup used to make, the one with the coconut water mixed with some lemongrass stuff, but I couldn't remember exactly how to do it. The irony."

Yongguk's eyes widen at the mention of Jongup's name.

"It didn't work," Himchan explains. "The procedure erased nothing. Maybe tiny memories, here and there, but not-- not what it was meant to. Not for me."

"Not Jongup?"

"Definitely not Jongup." Himchan shakes his head. "Shame I can't say the same about his memories of me."

"I didn’t realise that could..." He trails off. "Shit."

Himchan finishes his coffee. "Still, I'm not crying in your apartment, so you were wrong about that."

"Only because you've been doing it on your own sofa apparently. With wine instead of friends. Looking like shit."

"I deserve that, I know." Himchan laughs at the jab as he stands up. "Look, I feel like my head is going to split open into a thousand pieces, so I need to go back to bed. I'll text you this week, okay?"

"I hope you're not just saying that." Yongguk sighs. Adds, "If you don't text me by the weekend I'll send Daehyun over to yours with your spare key to annoy you," because it's the only thing he can think of that might actually spur Himchan into doing it.

Himchan forgets to text Yongguk regardless.

 

 

 

In Daehyun's defence, he doesn't use the spare key when he arrives at Himchan's apartment on Saturday. Instead he raps loudly on the door and calls, "Hyung, let me in! I have food!" through the letterbox.

Himchan ignores him.

"It's after midday, you have to eat!" He calls again two minutes later. Adds, slightly more quietly, "I'm not going to break in, please come to the door, hyung."

Himchan groans and rolls out of bed. When he opens the door, Daehyun looks him up and down. "You look like shit."

"Yongguk already used that one.” Himchan doesn’t move.

"Well, he was right." Daehyun pushes his way inside and heads towards the kitchen, where he places a larg bag of take out on the counter top. "Plates?"

"Top right cupboard." Himchan wanders over and peeks into the bag. "What is it?"

"A bit of everything. Some chicken, some stew, some-- I don't know, lots of things. It's all really good stuff." Daehyun lifts down two plates. Says, "I spoke to Junhong yesterday,” all casual, as if he’s still naming take out.

"What?"

"Don't worry, I didn't tell him about you and -- your memories." Daehyun grimaces as he looks up from the plates. "Sorry about that, by the way. Sucks."

"Yeah." Himchan starts to take boxes out of the paper bag. "Did he say anything? About Jongup?"

Daehyun shrugs. "Yeah, I guess. He said he's been busy getting ready to move back home. He's okay."

"Okay?"

"Well, happy. He said he seems happy."

"I'm glad," Himchan says. And whilst this isn't a lie, not even a little bit, it doesn't help to dull the pain in his chest.

 

 

 

When Yongguk opens his front door, Himchan says, "Don’t pretend I don’t know why you invited me over this afternoon."

Yongguk shrugs. "I'm surprised you came."

"I do have _some_ willpower." Himchan scowls, making his way into Yongguk's living room and all but throwing himself onto the sofa. "Take this away from me." He holds out his phone.

Yongguk pockets it. Says, "What time is Jongup's flight?"

"It’s in an hour." Himchan sighs and runs his hands over his face. "I was up most of last night justifying going to the airport. I don’t know what I thought I was going to do… Just sit at the Starbucks in the checking in hall and-- watch, probably. It sounds really-- really stalkery now I'm saying it out loud."

Yongguk raises an eyebrow.

"It's just-- it's so weird. It’s like he’s disappeared. I've thrown all of the stupid little things away -- tickets and photos that I kept in my wallet for almost two years. I never even looked at them but I knew they were there. And I threw them away because I was meant to forget.” Himchan bites his bottom lip. He’d made sure to read all of the literature, the leaflets that advised participants to rid their lives of anything that might remind them of the existence of the person who they’re about to purge from their minds. “They mentioned all this crap about the tiny things -- about changing the sheets on our bed, all the pillow cases, everything, so I did it. And now I have nothing of him and it hurts."

Yongguk sits down on the sofa next to him. "I get it."

"Do you?" Himchan folds his arms.

Yongguk pauses. "As much as I can from regular break ups, yes. I do."

Himchan sighs. "Sorry. I know I'm being annoying. Selfish. I don't know. I just-- I miss him."

There is a noise from the hallway and then Daeyhun is in the room, chattering away about the weather and how much his jacket is sticking to his skin in the humidity.

"Himchan-hyung, you came!" He grins as he approaches the sofa.

Himchan nods. Says, “I hope you've brought alcohol with you."

Daehyun holds up a plastic bag. Something inside makes a clinking noise as he does. "Beer," he clarifies, before heading across the room to cram the bottles into Yongguk's tiny fridge.

Himchan glances at his best friend once Daehyun's back is turned. "He knows your apartment well," he says quietly, eyebrow raised.

Yongguk just shrugs. "I guess."

"Been round here a lot lately, has he?" Himchan continues, "I thought you two weren't that close?"

"We aren't." Yongguk avoids Himchan's eye. "He just-- comes over sometimes."

Himchan wants to probe further but Daehyun is back, holding Himchan an open bottle. He says, "I'm proud of you. For not going to the airport."

"Thanks." Himchan takes a swig. "It was a stupid idea, anyway."

Daehyun asks, "Want me to text Junhong tonight and just check Jongup got home o.k?" He smiles, "So you don't have to obsessively refresh his twitter account for the next nine days until he finally tweets something about it?"

And Himchan smiles. "That would be nice, yeah."

Later, as he walks back to his apartment, a warm buzz flowing over him from the alcohol, Himchan wonders what Jongup is doing now, thirty thousand feet above them all, travelling further and further away from him.

They'd made the journey to his hometown together once, Himchan was a ball of nervous energy at the prospect of meeting Jongup's family for the first time. He'd worried over the tiniest of things, distracted as they'd boarded the flight and ascended into the sky, staring out of the window even when they were too high up to see anything other than clouds around them.

Jongup had reached over then and squeezed his hand. Had said, "Stop worrying. They'll love you, just like I do," and had smiled in that reassuring way that Himchan could swear never once failed to bring a blissful calm over anyone within a ten metre radius of Moon Jongup.

And he'd been right, of course he had; Jongup's parents were warm and welcoming, and his mother had pulled Himchan into a hug within seconds of him handing over the flowers they'd picked out from a roadside stall on the drive from the airport.

That night, after they'd said goodnight to Jongup's parents, they'd sat on the front porch and talked in hushed whispers about a million and one things, Himchan's hand at the small of Jongup's back, where it naturally gravitated most of the time.

Jongup had said, "Do you ever wonder if they're lonely? The stars?" and had rested a warm hand on Himchan's knee as he stared up into the night.

"No, but the fact that you do makes me love you a lot," Himchan had replied, pressing a kiss to Jongup's sun-kissed shoulder, before joining him in looking up, the stars so much brighter here than they ever seemed to be in the city.

Himchan takes a deep breath and looks up at the sky now, wonders what Jongup is doing and, then, wonders if the stars he can't see through the smog tonight feel as lonely as he does right now.

 

 

 

Youngjae takes no prisoners, not when he's passionate about something, not when he has an opinion, and he thinks - no, it's Youngjae - when he _knows_ that he’s correct. And Youngjae knows he is correct now, as he waves his chopsticks in the air, mouth full of rice and says, "It's been over a month now."

"And?" Himchan pushes his food around his plate. "We were together two years."

"I know, but you chose to do this. Both of you. And you knew there would be risks. There's always risks -- you took part in a experimental memory wipe procedure. That's like some sci-fi shit."

"What's your point?" Himchan looks at his plate, decides he isn't hungry.

Youngjae gives him an exasperated look and says, "You have to eat that food, I've paid for it. Anyway, my point is that you have to-- you have to accept this outcome and try to move on."

"But--"

Youngjae shakes his head, indignant. "I'm not losing this argument to you, hyung. Nuh-uh."

"You just hate losing," Himchan points out.

"No, I just hate seeing my friends wasting the miniscule amount of youth they have left wallowing in self pity." Youngjae puts his chopsticks down now. There's concern, as well as a flicker of humour, on his face.

"Hey!" Himchan snaps. "I'm only a four years older than you."

"Exactly. Frowning gives you wrinkles, you know." He smiles as he says it, eyes soft. "We just-- we worry about you. This isn't you."

Himchan sighs. "I appreciate the concern for my wrinkles." He offers Youngjae a wry smile. Asks, "You know him - do you think he would be feeling like this too? If-- if it had been the other way round?"

"Who? Jongup? Would Jongup be miserable and irritable and all self pitying?"

Himchan flinches, but he knows Youngjae has described him perfectly. Knows that this is what he was expecting when he accepted Youngjae's lunch invitation, knows it's what he needs really.

Youngjae continues, "I think he'd be absolutely devastated, hyung. But he'd probably be doing a hell of a better job at putting on a brave face."

Himchan nods, accepts that Youngjae is right. "I love him."

"I know. And he loved you." The past tense isn't emphasised, but Himchan hears it loud and clear. Youngjae smiles reassuringly, voice soft and says, "Now, less frowning, more eating, it’s good for you."

Himchan tucks into his lunch and tries out a smile.

 

 

 

October comes around, bringing cold air, early sunsets and four months since Jongup forgot about Himchan's existence.

Himchan has tried hard to be less irritable, less negative over the last few months. Tried to accept what happened and, well, not move on exactly, but move forward at least.

His pay-out from the Taylor Science Educational Institute, left ignored until September, has been paid into Himchan's brand new savings account. His credit card bills slowly decrease and he almost feels like he's swimming above water for the first time since he left home.

It’s a new experience. Even when Jongup had been there he’d felt like he was slipping under the surface, drowning in debt. But he was drowning with Jongup, so it was easy to ignore.

Now he’s tackled it head on, it feels good, if a little surreal.

He just wishes he didn't always get the urge to call Jongup up and tell him his good news every time something goes right.

 

 

 

Himchan finds that by November, time starts to pass by almost the way time used to, before Jongup left. Before the days dragged and the nights went by in uncomfortable quietness and dreams of a man who would never dream about him again.

It isn't quite a blink-and-you'll-miss-it month, that would be asking too much of the universe, but it is productive; Himchan sets up a meeting with the bank to discuss renting a little bar-sized lot that has become available in the quieter end of the city, the idea of opening his own wine bar seeming less like a fantasy and more like something conceivable somewhere down the line.

He spends three out of four Friday night's out of his apartment. And, granted, two of them he just spends falling asleep on Yongguk's sofa as they watch youtube videos (a spiral that begins with a couple singing covers of current pop songs with an acoustic guitar and inevitably ends with an eight minute video of ducklings successfully crossing a busy highway), but, regardless, it feels like a better way to spend his time than refreshing instagram to see that, no, Jongup hasn't updated since the last time he checked.

So, as year end creeps closer, Himchan feels like he's doing a good job of not wallowing in his own pity, but apparently Daehyun disagrees.

"You know what the only way to get truly, completely over someone is, right?" He asks, licking foam off the lid of his take-out coffee cup.

Himchan blows into his own coffee as they walk. "Memory erasure?"

"Apart from that.”

"What then?"

"Getting under someone else. Or in them. Or them in you-- whatever floats your boat." Daehyun grins. "Both if you want."

"So this bright idea, the one you made me get out of bed before ten on a very cold Sunday to discuss is for me to have sex with someone?"

"Exactly!" Daehyun looks absurdly proud of himself. "I was talking about it with Youngjae and he agreed, because before you got with Jongup you were always sleeping with someone new and--"

Himchan cuts in. "Okay, okay. Can we not talk about how many people I've slept with please?"

Daehyun shrugs. Says, "If you agree to my great plan I will."

"I'm not going to sleep with you, Daehyun," Himchan retorts.

"Fuck off," Daehyun replies, but he doesn't look at all offended. "Look, let's go out on Saturday night. Have a few drinks first, maybe go to a club, you might meet someone interesting..." He nudges him in the ribs. “See where I’m heading with this?”

"I can't."

"No? Why? What else are you doing?" Daehyun demands.

Himchan sips his coffee. "I've got plans."

"No you don't. You never have plans anymore. You stay at home and stalk your ex boyfriend - the one you tried to erase from your mind in some weird break-up pact thing - on social media and torture yourself with his, like, three updates.”

"That isn't all I do," Himchan replies. "And it wasn't a break-up pact, it was-- ugh, I'm not justifying this to you right now."

Daehyun huffs. "You can't rehash old memories forever, hyung."

It stings to hear it, but Himchan knows that his friend is right, they always seem to be lately. He takes a deep breath. "Fine, I'll go out with you. On one condition."

"Yeah?"

"Please don't get up to dance on any podiums or poles this time."

Daehyun pouts, but only for a few seconds. "Deal."

 

 

 

Himchan spends his entire Saturday thinking of excuses he can make up to get out of being sociable, but he knows that none of them will actually stand up against Daehyun's scrutiny, so when Daehyun texts him at half past six to check that he hasn't forgotten their ‘big night out’, he can only muster up the energy to reply with a thumbs up emoji.

At nine forty five, Daehyun is at his door, brandishing a bottle of imported vodka. "Quick, let me in, it's freezing out there." He shivers dramatically for effect.

"Why aren't you wearing a jacket?" Himchan asks as Daehyun pushes past him.

"The ratio of the amount of jackets I own to the amount of jackets I've drunkenly left in bars has taught me it’s no longer worth the risk." He places the bottle on the kitchen counter-top, pours two shot glasses and grins. "Drink up, hyung!" He passes one of the drinks over the counter. "Tonight is going to be fun, I promise."

As much as Himchan is reluctant to admit it to Daehyun himself, they agree afterwards that the night _is_ fun, both by Daehyun's standards (which, he admits with a grin, are low) and even by Himchan's (who wasn’t expecting to feel anything but resentful that he's gotten off the sofa for this).

He dances with strangers, watches couples pressed together on the dance floor without feeling more than the smallest pang of sadness and drinks shots with a bachelorette party, twice.

And, then, dances with strangers some more. With one stranger in particular; a tall stranger, with auburn hair and a cat-like grin, who pulls his body closer. Himchan closes his eyes, feels the beat of the bass thumping through him like a second heartbeat, wraps his arms around the stranger's neck. It feels nice, it feels intimate. And then he kisses the stranger, who kisses him back, until the song changes and Himchan suddenly doesn't feel like kissing him anymore.

Makes a thinly veiled excuse to find Daehyun and then a thinly veiled excuse to leave altogether. Daehyun obliges, is distracted in the cab, gets out nowhere near his apartment, but conveniently near to Yongguk's. Himchan says nothing.

Himchan climbs into his bed without changing out of his clothes, jeans tight around his calves, the button digging into his stomach as he lies in bed and scrolls idly through instagram.

Likes a few random posts; some naked men, some naked women, some fast cars, a photo of Yongguk's dog, a photo of a sunset posted by an old school-friend. And then navigates his way to a page he doesn't follow anymore. Jongup's account.

Himchan bites his lip as the first photo loads. It's a new one that he hasn't seen yet, posted nine hours ago: Jongup looking into the camera, a lopsided smile and windswept hair, the field behind his parent's house in the background and blue sky above him. He looks good. He looks content.

Himchan likes the photo automatically, and then panics. Unlikes it seconds later, googles "will someone get notification if I accidentally liked their photo" and tries to decide which response on Asks he actually trusts the most, until he finally drops his phone onto the bed, allowing it to disappear into the mound of his duvet, somewhere between his body and the edge, and groans.

When he wakes up the next morning he realises that he remembers the recipe for Jongup's hangover cure after all, but it tastes like there is something missing.

Himchan drinks half and then pours the rest away and goes back to bed.

 

 

 

It's December 30th and it's snowing, and it's dark, but Himchan is feeling claustrophobic inside the apartment; needs to get out, see faces other than his own. His own isn't aesthetically pleasing anymore; tired eyes and a turned down mouth greet him in the mirror in the mornings and Himchan decides that getting out again is probably a good idea.

Just with less vodka and less kissing people he isn't sure why he's kissing.

Yongguk has been at his parent's house over Christmas and Himchan wants to hear all of his family news, stories of his siblings and his parents and the other people in his life. Himchan has always enjoyed hearing happy stories of the Bang family. He doesn't go home for Christmas anymore himself, hasn't for six years. Had received a polite card from his parents with a voucher for a store he doesn't shop in tucked inside on December twenty third, and that had been that.

So Himchan arranges to meet Yongguk a little after five, and, even when Yongguk calls to say he's running late, Himchan doesn't mind. Settles on a free stool at the bar, orders a glass of Merlot and waits to get lost in other people's lives for a while.

There is a festivity to the air that he's always appreciated at this time of year, as the bar staff get geared up for one of their busiest nights of the calendar, and the patrons get geared up for one of their drunkest.

Himchan thinks about Youngjae's New Year's Eve Party invitation, the one that remains to be responded to, the one that came in the form of message in his inbox four days ago, followed by another that had said, “Don’t you dare pretend to have other plans. I’ve checked.” Himchan thinks that maybe he'll accept it after all if it isn't too late to change his mind. Maybe he needs it.

Maybe.

Himchan is pondering this when the door opens and a sudden chill blows through the bar as people pour inside and out of the cold. Himchan turns to watch them pull off hats and gloves as they adjust to the sudden warmth of a wine bar at happy hour and he's just about losing interest, just about to look away when he sees him, pulling a green scarf off from around his neck and nodding as someone motions towards a booth on the other side of the bar.

Jongup.

Jongup who he knows so well, who used to know him, but not for seven months. Himchan feels lightheaded. Jongup starts to walk towards him, and Himchan worries that his heart might be about to jump ship, right out of his chest as Jongup gets closer, and closer and--

And then walks right past Himchan and into the mass of people waiting to to be served.

For a few minutes, whilst he is out of view at the other end of the bar, Himchan wonders if he's imagined the whole scenario. Until he is there again, elbow knocking Himchan's side, beer spilling out onto Himchan's shirt sleeve.

And then, in the booth in the corner, laughing with people who aren’t Himchan, a hand over his smiling mouth, the way he always covered his mouth at the start of their relationship. Before Himchan persuaded him out of the habit, once he'd told him a thousand times how beautiful his smile was. It's funny, Himchan thinks, that when Jongup's memories of them were taken, that old habits returned in their place.

And then, then he is glancing at Himchan, but only for a second, or less, much less.

It's all too much, and suddenly Himchan finds himself leaving an empty bar stool and half a glass of wine, stepping outside and hailing a cab. He texts Yongguk that he's not suddenly feeling well and only feels a small pang of guilt.

It's not exactly a lie, anyway.

 

 

 

Youngjae successfully drags Himchan to the New Year’s Eve party.

It's being hosted by a girl that Youngjae knew at university, though he can't remember which class they took together, if any. “I just knew everyone back then,” he points out.

The party is already noisy when they enter, the bass of the speakers reverberating through the room and the sticky feel of spilt liquor on the hardwood floor beneath their shoes. It’s a little after ten, just enough time to fill up on free canapés and warm champagne before bringing in the new year. And hopefully enough time for Himchan to distract himself from the person he'd seen the evening before.

He thinks about mentioning it to Youngjae, but he's been trying not to make a big deal out of it for the last twenty four hours. After all, Jongup had lived in the city for years, he was always going to come back to visit. He has his own friends, had lived his own life - a Himchan free life - even before he was completely, one hundred percent Himchan-memory free.

So, Himchan is really trying not to make a big deal out of it, not externally anyway.

Internally he's mess of shock and longing and stupid fantasies about the way that Jongup had glanced over, just for a moment. Fantasies that involve Jongup suddenly remembering who he is.

The night before, after he had fled the bar, he had spent two hours online, searching for articles about the procedure, about similar trials; the one in Europe, one that was abandoned in Japan. He searches every combination of ‘memories’ and ‘returned’ and ‘remember’ that he can, but finds nothing to support his wishful thinking.

After three glasses of Champagne, Youngjae introduces Himchan to a guy he knows (“from somewhere”). “He's single,” Youngjae stage whispers as he waves the man over. Himchan forgets to listen when Youngjae tells him the man’s name.

He knows Youngjae is just being a good friend, that he's trying to help. And Himchan does find it kind of cute that Youngjae has chosen to introduce him to someone who appears to be the complete opposite of Jongup. But, he just isn't interested in a New Years fling. He doesn't even really want an intelligent conversation with a handsome guy. He just wants to drink and to pretend to be listening to stories that Youngjae’s friends are telling and to know that he didn't spend New Year’s Eve alone in his apartment.

He does have some decorum though, so Himchan smiles and flirts a little and, despite himself, gets into the conversation.

“What do you think?” Youngjae sidles up next to him when the guy - who's name, Himchan realises, he forgot to even ask during their conversation - goes to refill their glasses.

“He's nice.” Himchan shrugs. “A bit pretentious maybe? He mentioned his holiday home about four times.”

“If you owned that holiday home, you would too.” Youngjae laughs.

“Have you been?” Himchan asks, wonders exactly how well Youngjae knows the guy, but Youngjae doesn't even seem to be listening now. Is peering over Himchan’s shoulder and biting at his lip.

“Don’t turn around, hyung,” Youngjae blurts out, but it's too late, because before he can even speak the second word, Himchan turns his head to see what has got Youngjae so distracted from playing Cupid.

If Himchan didn't know any better, he'd think Jongup might be stalking him, because there he is, in the room, at the party he wasn’t going to go to. He turns back again, says, “It's fine.”

“We could go somewhere else.” Youngjae mouths a hello to the group Jongup is with. Or maybe to Jongup himself; Himchan can't see what's going on behind him anymore.

“What, at eleven thirty? We’ll end up queuing outside some club in the cold when it strikes Midnight.”

“I suppose, but…” Youngjae is fretting, Himchan can tell.

“Honestly, Youngjae, I'm not going to make a scene. it's -- it's fine,” he says.

And it is, for a while.

When the clock strikes midnight, Himchan pretends to make a lunge for Youngjae, who laughs and slaps at his arm and says, "Happy New Year, hyung!" in a singsong voice. Spills his drink on the floor in the process and shrieks as it splashes back onto his jeans.

They stay a little longer, the party emptying slowly as the new year rolls in and people head out into the night to hail cabs and catch last subways and to go home with people they met right there in the room.

Youngjae lingers, finds old friends from university - people Himchan guesses probably know Jongup too - to catch up with. People he hasn't seen for years (“Because, as great company as I am, I can be an antisocial dick sometimes,” he points out as he counts the years since he last saw some of the other guests off on his fingers).

 

 

 

Himchan decides to give him some space. Slips out of the door, shares an elevator down to ground level with a groping couple, and steps out onto the street. He leans against the wall and fumbles to find the lighter he knows he had earlier, pilfered cigarette he charmed out of the couple in the elevator resting between his lips as he pats every place he can think of and comes up short.

"Maybe you should give them up for New Year. As a resolution."

Himchan freezes at the sound of his voice. Looks up to find Jongup watching him, his hair slicked up, jacket collar popped, his hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets as he sways on the spot in what Himchan assumes is an effort to stay warm.

"Sorry-- I didn't mean to, I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life. Just-- losing your lighter could be a sign from the universe, you know?"

"A what?”

Jongup is still swaying. "It’s silly, but I have this theory that the universe gives us little signs about things. Like-- maybe the universe is telling you not to have that first smoke of the year."

Himchan manages to get his brain to function, removes the cigarette from between his lips. Nods. "Or maybe the universe just likes playing tricks on us."

(Like, he thinks, not telling us what a mistake we were about to make.)

Jongup grins. "Maybe you're right."

Himchan gives up on the lighter search, pockets the unlit cigarette. He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to say, "I miss you,” except, he doesn't allow himself to, not aloud, anyway, because that wouldn't be fair, not to Jongup and not to himself.

"Um-- " Jongup speaks instead. “I saw you inside the party, but I wasn't sure if-- you came with Youngjae, right? Yoo Youngjae?"

Himchan manages to form more words, although his brain is close to short circuiting, or at least it feels that way. "He's a friend."

"Oh, cool. Yeah, I know him. Uh, also I remember you from yesterday -- at the bar? I knocked into you? You...You probably don't even remember."

Himchan almost laughs. As if he could forget yesterday when he can’t even forget what he’s meant to. "I remember. Don't worry about it, the shirt will be fine."

Jongup says, "I really should have bought you a drink or something, to apologise. I thought about it all night."

He bites his lip and Himchan wants to reach out and pull him close and say, "I think about you every night," but instead he watches Jongup's expression; hope mixed with apprehension.

It's the same expression he wore the night he accidentally called Himchan his boyfriend on the phone to his mother before they'd really become official. It’s the same expression he'd worn when he'd sat beside Himchan and told him he needed to move home, and move out, and leave for a while, even if he didn’t want to.

"I'd like that.” Himchan doesn't even realise he's said it until it's too late, until Jongup's smiling, the apprehension lifted from his gaze, and is saying, "We could swap numbers maybe? I'm only in town for a few more days but if you’re not busy we could get a drink?"

And somehow Himchan's number ends up in Jongup's phone.

Again.

 

 

 

When Himchan wakes up on January first he has a headache and an overwhelming sense of foreboding in his gut.

He thinks back to the night before: to drinks and celebrations and laughter. To stepping outside into the cold air and fumbling for a lighter he couldn’t find. To Jongup at his side, talking about the universe and it's signs and asking him out.

Jongup asking him out. And him getting caught up in it all, putting his number into Jongup's phone with trembling fingers.

Himchan groans and rolls over, and then dreams of the universe laughing at him, the ground below him shaking with ripples of laughter, louder and louder in his ears.

When he wakes up it is thundering outside and his headache remains.

 

 

 

Jongup texts him on January third.

The message Himhan receives is just one word, just, "hey." One word that Himchan reads over and over again for the next two days, opening the message, closing the message, writing a reply and then deleting it before he presses send. Repeating this cycle countless times.

When the message first comes through, Himchan feels a rush of elation, of excitement; that giddy feeling that punctuates the beginning of something. But, there’s a measure of apprehension there too, because it’s not the beginning at all, Himchan knows that. And Jongup doesn’t.

And so Himchan wonders if he should reply, if it’s lying by omission to even strike up a conversation with Jongup without admitting how much he loves him.

He begins to think that maybe he shouldn't have given Jongup his number at all. He should have left the party as soon as he'd spotted the familiar face across the room. But, whilst Himchan knows these are things he should have done, he never would have done them. No matter how many times Jongup forgot him, Himchan is pretty certain that every time they met again, Himchan would gladly type his number into Jongup's phone.

Every single time.

He brings up Jongup's text once more, four days after he received it and, before he can change his mind, types the first thing that comes into his head and hits reply.

But it’s too late, Himchan realises, when Jongup's reply includes a sadface emoji and the news that he's leaving town again to go back home to his parent’s place the next day.

Himchan tells himself that it's for the best, that he couldn't have met up with Jongup, couldn't play stranger to the person with whom he had once shared everything. Or maybe it’s more worrying than that. Maybe it’s for the best because, deep down Himchan knows that he could do it, he would do it if it meant getting to spend time with Jongup again, and that’s a pretty scary thing to admit.

 

 

 

Youngjae is the one pushing food around his plate, this time.

Says, “Sorry about the whole Jongup thing-- at the party. I didn't know he was back here or I would have checked who Hana had invited.” He finally eats something. Says, after a mouthful, “I sent Junhong a really pissed off text the next morning, he's meant to warn us if Jongup's in town!"

"Is he now?" Himchan raises an eyebrow.

Youngjae falters, "I mean, well-- yeah.” He pulls a face. “Junhong still texts me and Daehyun sometimes, keeps us in the Jongup loop. We were all his friends too."

"You can still be his friends you know."

"I know, I know, it's just-- I don't want to be the one who puts my foot in it and mentions you." He smiles.

Himchan returns the smile, doesn’t want Youngjae to feel bad. "My bet would be on Daehyun to slip up first."

Youngjae looks relieved that Himchan is taking this all so well. "You're probably right,” he agrees.

"Well, no harm done." Himchan wants to get off the subject of Jongup and New Years Eve. Is trying to forget about it.

But Youngjae isn't to know and he presses on, nodding as he continues, "Yeah, it must have been weird though - spotting him across a room?"

Himchan shrugs. Says, "It was just for a second," and swiftly changes the subject. It's not that he's keeping the fact that he’d done more than just glance at Jongup briefly from his friends, it's just that he hasn't actually told anyone about it yet. And isn’t planning to.

Which is fine, since Himchan has decided that pretending their conversation didn’t happen at all is probably for the best.

 

 

 

It's almost three weeks later when Himchan hears from Jongup again.

He is just getting out of the shower when he hears his phone. He hums along to the ringtone. It's some girl-group song, the hit of the summer or something apparently; a song that Youngjae had downloaded onto his phone without asking the last time he'd been over.

(Himchan is yet to admit he likes it at all, let alone enough to set as his new ringtone.)

When he makes it out of the bathroom, towel around his waist and hair still wet, he picks up his phone to check who the missed call is from. He's expecting it to be Yongguk, reminding him that he said he'd meet up for dinner after his meeting with the bank, or maybe Daehyun, finding some roundabout way to bring up Yongguk in the way he's been doing lately. Himchan still isn't sure what's going on between them, aside from Daehyun having the most obvious crush on their friend, but every time he tries to bring it up with Yongguk the subject magically changes, and Himchan can never be quite bothered to change it back again. Thinks, it'll become my business when they want it to become my business.

He thinks that Jongup would be proud of his restraint if he knew.

But the missed call isn't from Yongguk or Daehyun. It's from Jongup. Himchan stares at the name, only moving when a drop of water runs along a strand of his hair and onto the screen, magnifying the letter O.

He wipes away the water and unlocks his phone, deletes the notification and breathes in.

When he breathes out the phone beeps as a text message comes through.

**_Jongup [11:24]_ **

**Sorry! Called by accident!**

That's it. Just four words.

Himchan feels equal measures of relief and disappointment.

 

 

 

As the year rolls in, so does Himchan’s luck. Or, at least he calls it luck. Youngjae and Daehyun groan and call it ‘obvious’. Then they roll their eyes, and say, “Hyung, you were born to make money off the concept of people paying to drink overpriced bottles of wine.”

Yongguk agrees with them. “You've been working hard on this,” he says as Himchan drives them all home from the restaurant after a last minute decision to go out and celebrate his business proposal being accepted. Himchan stares at the road and smiles to himself as Daehyun kicks the back of his seat and calls out in agreement.

When they pull into Yongguk’s block and Yongguk bids them goodnight, Himchan watches Daehyun in the rear view mirror. “You not getting out too?” Himchan asks, trying not to smirk.

“No. Why would I be?” Daehyun replies too quickly.

Himchan scoffs. “I may have been distracted over the last seven months, but I do have eyes.”

“And?”

“And there's something going on between you two. You don't have to pretend...” He pauses. “Wait, you aren't keeping this from me because you think I can't deal with other happy couples, are you?”

Daehyun scowls. “We are not a happy couple, believe me. We’re not a couple, period.”

“But you two are sleeping together?”

Daehyun sighs in surrender. “Yes, kind of. We were.” He looks like a sulky toddler in the backseat. “I don't think he actually likes me.”

“Well, he puts his dick in you, that must mean something.”

“Wha-- How--"

“He's my best friend. I just know these things. If you want any date tips, I’m here to guide you in the right direction.” Himchan is straight up grinning now.

“Ugh, I just-- he's difficult to read sometimes.” Daehyun mumbles. “Fuck, I can't believe I'm discussing this with you. Can’t you just drive me home now?”

“Okay, fine. Just, you can talk to me about it if you ever want to. Not too long ago I had my own fully fledged love life.” He catches Daehyun’s eye in the mirror. “Bang may be hard to read, but hey - at least he remembers you exist.”

Daehyun rolls his eyes and says, “You really do know all the best things to say to make me feel better.”

 

 

 

When Himchan gets home he lies down on his sofa and stares at a blank message screen on his phone.

He has so much news -- not just the Daehyun and Yongguk gossip, but the fact that he’s paid for his rent upfront for the last two months, and the fact that (and he still can’t quite believe this) the bank are willing to lend him enough money to start up his own business. His very own bar.

Himchan has so much news and only one person he wants to tell it to. He drafts a long message, a gushing message, full of exclamation points and stupid emojis and then he imagines the response that would have come through back when he used to text Jongup this stuff on a daily basis. The response would only be a few words long, so few words that anyone else would assume it meant the other party wasn't interested, but Himchan knew that was just his style. Shit at texting back, good at pretty much everything else.

He bites his lip as he deletes the message. He was never going to send it anyway; Jongup would have no idea why he was telling him. Wouldn't care. Why should he?

Himchan goes through and deletes the three texts and one missed call from Jongup from his phone, then deletes him as a contact altogether.

 

 

 

When he next hears from Jongup, he doesn't even realise it’s him. Answers the phone in a rush, his phone crushed between his chin and his shoulder as he pulls on his shoes.

He usually ignores numbers he doesn't recognise, but it could be the bank or the property owner or someone from the council; he's due to hear back about his application for a full liquor license this week.

He sounds far away and the line crackles as he speaks, but Himchan recognises his voice instantly. “Hi, it's Jongup -- We met at New Year?”

Himchan's mouth is dry, but he manages to reply. “Oh, hi.”

“I just wondered if-- if you still wanted to get a drink with me? Probably not since it’s been three months, but I'm going to be in the city next weekend, so…” He trails off, and Himchan can tell that he's nervous. Thinks that maybe Jongup's heart is hammering away in his ears, just as Himchan's heart is hammering away in his own, if for different reasons.

Himchan closes his eyes. “That sounds really good,” he says, and he means it so much, “But I’m really busy right now. Work stuff and--uh. Yeah.”

Jongup is trying not to sound flustered, never wants anyone to feel sorry for him, has always been that way: the relaxed one, the stoic one. But once you know him as well as Himchan does, the slight change in his tone, the disappointment, is clear. “Of course. Maybe some other time, then?” he asks and Himchan winces.

“Yeah, some other time,” he replies, and then feels terrible for giving Jongup false hope, for giving Jongup his number at New Year when he doesn't want to lie to him, but wouldn't know how to tell him the truth either.

For ever texting the link to the memory wipe trial to his boyfriend in the first place.

When he steps outside of his building it begins to rain, the clouds appearing from nowhere to flatten his hair to his forehead and wet the toes of his shoes, and Himchan wonders if the universe is angry with him for being such a dick.

 

 

 

Himchan manages to avoid taking Jongup up on his offer of a drink for forty-eight hours, so he has that going for him at least. And anyway, it isn't exactly his fault when it happens, it's just the universe fucking with him again.

"Is this your regular coffee place?"

"What?" He recognises the voice instantly, turns to meet smiling eyes and a smiling mouth. Jongup radiates happiness, and Himchan finds himself thinking that it's unfair. Always has been. "Oh-- no, not really. It's just that it’s not far from Yong-- a friend's place, and it does a good Americano."

If Jongup notices the awkward stumble over Yongguk's name, he doesn't mention it. Just says, "I like it in here too. The manager is really kind."

Himchan blinks. Can’t quite believe that after making such a resolute stance about not seeing Jongup he’s here, beside him, anyway. "Oh?" He says.

"I used to come in here a lot back when I had just moved here-- for the first time, I mean. I'd never lived away from home before, and the manager used to give me free cookies. I think I reminded him of his son." He peers at the chalkboard behind the counter. "What would you like?"

"It's fine, I can get--"

Jongup interrupts him, "Please can I buy you a coffee? I still owe you a drink.”

Himchan pauses. "Thank you. What am I allowed to order?"

Jongup laughs. "Whatever you'd like."

Himchan orders his usual, but with one shot of coffee instead of three. He doesn't need the extra caffeine today, his heart is hammering inside his chest already, after all.

As Jongup pays, Himchan finds it difficult to resist laughing at how stupid this all is: How stupid it is that they've met again by chance. How stupid it is that Jongup has been thinking about him, that after three months Jongup still wanted to take him out. That Jongup noticed him at all once, let alone twice.

That the universe is pulling them back together, when they agreed to be apart.

"So, why are you in town?" Himchan asks, as Jongup hands over his cup.

Jongup twists his mouth in thought. “I just really love free cookies,” he settles on replying. There is a glint in his eye, like he's wondering if Himchan can tell whether he's being serious or not. “That and I used to live here, I know Yoo Youngjae, remember? I'm apartment hunting this weekend. I'm moving back for school in a few weeks.”

“School?” Himchan manages, but he's still taking in the words moving and back.

Jongup's eyes crease in amusement as he smiles. “Don't worry, I'm not, like, nineteen. I'm doing a postgrad -- in vocal performance at the College of Music?”

Himchan blinks. “Grad school," he repeats, processing.

“I've been thinking about it for a while but the timing had never been right, and then I moved back home for a while and..." He smiles, covers his mouth consciously. “Sorry, you don't need my life story.”

His mouth feels like someone has stuffed it with cotton balls. "No, I mean, that's really great."

And it _is_. It's something he knows Jongup has been thinking about since they first met, before he had even graduated the first time. And it's something that he knows Jongup had wanted whilst they were together, but hadn't thought was possible. Not with his mother's medical bills. Not before the money.

It’s great, but at the same time, from the most selfish point of view, it's all too much, too soon for Himchan. Yongguk had warned him, after all, that Jongup probably wouldn't move home forever, that he could come back, and their lives would revolve around the same places and the same people once again.

It's just that at the time, Himchan had thought they would both be blissfully oblivious.

"Thanks for the coffee,” he says as they hover on the street outside the coffee shop afterwards.

Jongup just dips his head a little and replies, "It’s only a few months late.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, I know I took too long to reply to your text at New Year.” He doesn't add that he isn't sure if it was selfish of him to have replied to it at all. “So, which way are you heading?”

"I have to get to an apartment viewing. I think most of the rooms nearest the college have been taken already so I have to choose quickly." He adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder, rocks a little on his feet, a habit that never went away. For a moment Himchan thinks Jongup is about to ask him to come along too, but instead he says, "I'll -- see you round?"

Himchan nods, but doesn't open his mouth. Doesn't reply verbally, so that he can tell himself he isn't encouraging this blossoming friendship, or whatever it is.

He tells himself this a million times over the next few days, even as he goes back through his calls list and saves Jongup’s number as a contact again, but he doesn't believe it even a bit.

 

 

 

Youngjae is flicking through TV channels as Himchan makes notes for the decor of the bar. He can feel Youngjae’s eyes watching the side of his face, rather than the TV as he works, and he wants to ask if Youngjae has something to say, but he has a feeling that he knows what has Youngjae looking so nervous, so he puts it off until he really can’t concentrate on colour schemes any longer.

“Why are you burning a hole in my skull?” He asks, finally. 

“Jongup's back,” Youngjae replies. It comes out in a short breath.

Himchan looks up from his tablet, tries to look surprised. "For a visit?" He asks, as if he doesn't know.

"For-- to live here. He's going back to school." Youngjae twists his face. "Sorry."

Himchan nods slowly. "I see.”

"Yeah." Youngjae looks suitably awkward, to give him some credit. "I just wanted to tell you before you found out some other way."

"Thank you." Himchan means it, he really does. It's not Youngjae's fault that he's basically sneaking around with his own ex boyfriend behind their friends’ backs.

"It's the least I could do after last time." Youngjae smiles an apology. "He actually texted me about moving back, asked if his ex still lived in the city. Just out of curiosity, I think."

“What did you say?”

“Just that you -- his ex does. I didn’t mention your name -- I know we’re not meant to, Yongguk-hyung showed me that ‘next of kin’ pack with all the stuff about not mentioning the forgotten person or showing you pictures and stuff if we can help it, in case your brain can’t handle it. Intense stuff.”

“Yeah.” Himchan nods. “Not that it makes any difference to me. My brain can’t handle it and my procedure didn’t even work.”

Youngjae says, "It did make me wonder though, about the people whose friends are careless, who mention the person they’ve forgotten constantly. What it does to them.”

“The institute are probably studying that too,” Himchan points out. “After all, nothing is ironed out yet, it’s still a trial.”

“True. Anyway, I’ll text you if Junhong lets me know which neighbourhood Jongup chooses to live in. I know you like to be in receipt of all the gossip." He narrows his eyes. "Which is why I'm pretty sure you'll know why Daehyun has been acting all mopey recently."

"You can't tell me that the love of my life is moving back to town and then expect to interrogate me about Daehyun's love life, this is prime me time."

Youngjae’s mouth curls up in glee. "Who mentioned his love life?"

Himchan purses his lips. "Don't you dare ask me to reveal anything more."

Youngjae laughs, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll take pity." He pauses. "And don't worry about the Jongup thing, okay? Sure, you might bump into him here and there, but at least you don't have to, like, talk to him. He doesn't know you, so at least you can just walk away, you know?”

“I know,” Himchan murmurs an agreement, even though this isn't true, because Jongup does know him. Not in the same way Himchan does, but still.

Jongup knows him now. Again.

And it’s Himchan’s fault. He could have walked away from him, could have made a polite excuse to go back inside the party at New Year, but he didn't. He typed in his number and got carried away, and that's one memory of him that is fresh in Jongup's mind.

 

 

 

Himchan goes back to the coffee shop, the one with the good coffee and the kind cookie-providing manager, at least according to Jongup.

He isn't sure why he's back, aside from the very obvious fact that deep down he's hoping he'll accidentally bump into Jongup. Accidentally. Through no fault of his own, just like last time.

This is what he's telling himself as he stands in line, eyes trained on the chalkboard behind the counter. He orders a three shot iced Americano with skimmed milk, and a cookie, which he wraps up in the brown paper bag he's handed it in and shoves into his bag, between paperwork and his tablet. He has no idea why he ordered it.

He hovers at the door a while, draws out getting out his phone and flicking through his messages, all already read. He even goes as far as checking the weather app for something to do, but despite his dithering, Jongup doesn't appear.

Himchan feels stupid, and guilty, and kind of lonely for the rest of the day.

 

 

 

Himchan texts him two days later.

Just a 'hi', just to check how he is, how he's settling in again. It's difficult not to care, not to wonder. He wishes it wasn't that way, realises that what he's doing is skirting a fine line between morally dubious and really fucking idiotic, but then, maybe agreeing to wipe their memories of each other was too, so it's not like this is anything new.

He nearly drops the phone when it begins to ring.

"Himchan-hyung..." Jongup’s voice sounds tiny and there is an echo of his words down the phone.

"Yes?"

The echo continues. "Do you like furniture shopping?"

"Why?" Himchan wonders where this is going.

"Well, my apartment is basically just a bed and a sofa right now, which is fine with me, I don't use much else, but apparently if I ever want to have people over I need chairs and lamps and a table, and I wouldn't mind some help choosing..." The echo makes sense now, as Himchan imagines Jongup, lying contently in the middle of a completely empty apartment.

"You'd live in an apartment with just a bed and a sofa?" He asks, although he knows damn well Jongup would. Well, maybe an apartment with a bed and a sofa and something to watch anime on.

"Bed, sofa, food and a TV." Jongup counts off like he's thought about this before. "All any person needs."

"I beg to differ," Himchan replies and Jongup laughs in response.

"I thought you'd say that. That's why I need your help."

Himchan says, "I suppose I could find time to go furniture shopping, have you made a list of what you want?"

The conversation is easy. It's like-- it's like when they first started dating and when they'd been together for a year all at once. Himchan feels nervous and excited but also comfortable.

He also feels a heavy weight at the bottom of his stomach, but he finds that it is surprisingly easy to ignore when those other feelings are involved.

 

 

 

It's almost nine when they leave the furniture warehouse, and the sun is setting in a pink haze across the city.

Himchan has a missed call from Youngjae when he checks his phone and he glances at Jongup as he puts his phone back into his pocket without even unlocking it.

"I haven't kept you from other plans, have I?" Jongup asks.

Himchan shakes his head. Says, "Do you want me to come over and help you set everything up when they deliver it?"

Jongup makes a sound like could almost be a laugh. "Do you not trust me to set up the furniture in my own apartment?"

"You almost bought Naruto bedding from the children's section," Himchan replies.

"Yeah, to put on ironically," Jongup deadpans, as if this should have been obvious.

Himchan would usually just laugh at this point, but then Himchan knows Jongup's sense of humour inside out. Jongup doesn't know this, not now, so instead he cocks his head and says, "You serious?"

Jongup just smiles.

 

 

 

Jongup invites him over to his apartment once the furniture has all arrived. "To check I didn't make the wrong choices," he says, and Himchan has to bite his tongue not to laugh, since he knows he's the one making wrong choices left right and centre, especially ones like agreeing to be alone with Jongup.

They meet for lunch the week after; Himchan buzzing with energy after his latest meeting; the plans for his bar almost finalised, the lease signed, the decorators booked. He talks about it at length, can't help himself, he's excited and pleased and proud. And he's telling the one person who would have shared the happiness he feels with him the most, if he still knew how much Himchan has always wanted this.

Jongup smiles, nods in all of the right places, makes appreciative noises when Himchan goes through his ideas for the wine list, even though he's drinking cola and eating a cheeseburger and clearly doesn't give a damn about the most expensive Merlot on the list. It makes Himchan want to kiss him.

It almost makes Himchan think he should and it would be okay. The heavy weight in his chest remains forgotten.

 

 

 

It's a Sunday afternoon, and Himchan is on Jongup's new sofa, reading his emails whilst Jongup watches television next to him.

Jongup is laughing along with the show, hand over his mouth, and Himchan joins in even though he is only half watching, then finds he can't stop.

Jongup's laughter is infectious and there's a lightness in the room, in his limbs, in his head. He feels good, he feels happy, and Jongup looks happy too.

There's nothing wrong with spending time together, Himchan decides, as Jongup leans back, legs kicked out, shoulder to shoulder with Himchan as he taps his pen against the page and pretends he is thinking about putting the finishing touches to his business plan and not going through an internal monologue with himself about why this is a great idea.

When Jongup kisses him, it’s easy to get lost in it, but when he pulls away he feels so guilty it hurts.

 

 

 

They meet up for a quick thirty minute lunch a few days later, and Himchan is trying to work a question that’s been playing on his mind into the conversation naturally. It’s not easy. “So, have you told any of your friends about us? Youngjae, or anyone?”

Jongup takes a sip of coke. “Not really.” He blushes. “I might have mentioned I’m seeing someone. No details. Why?”

“Just wondered,” Himchan replies, and thanks the stars that Jongup wears his heart quietly and privately on his sleeve, just as he always has. Has had countless anxious moments opening texts from Youngjae over the last few weeks, where he’s expected to find an angry emoji and a demand to know why the hell Jongup is talking about him.

Himchan had told his friends about them way before Jongup had thought it necessary when they’d first got together. At first Himchan had felt somewhat self conscious, wondered if Jongup didn’t want people to know who he loved. He’d brought it up one night, a few months before Jongup had moved in, and Jongup had looked surprised, had shrugged and said, “I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging, most of my friends are single right now.”

Himchan had held him close and had called him an angel, and Jongup had just laughed against his skin, had mock shouted towards the open window “Kim Himchan is my boyfriend!”. Had laughed again as Himchan tackled him to the bed.

This time Jongup smiles inquisitively. Asks, “Why, who have you told?”

“A few people,” Himchan lies. He would have, if the situation were different. If his reasoning for keeping it quiet was as selfless as Jongup's is.

But it’s not, so he’s keeping it to himself.

 

 

 

It is a busy Saturday downtown and they're weaving through the crowds to make it to their restaurant reservation. They get caught at a busy crossing, bodies pressed close as people hover at the edge of the curb, wait for the cue to cross in front of the traffic.

Jongup stops still for a moment and then shakes his head with a laugh.

Himchan catches his amused expression. "What?" He asks, and Jongup shakes his head again, the smile still playing on his lips.

"Tell me," Himchan says.

"I just got déjà vu,” Jongup says. “Like we've been here before.”

Himchan knows they have. Replies, "Déjà vu is just your brain playing tricks on you.” Nudges Jongup's arm with his elbow to show he's playing around.

Jongup moves with Himchan as they travel with the crowd across the road, Himchan's hand at the crook of his elbow, the innate desire to keep him safe, keep him close, still there. “Says, "I guess. I mean, if we had done this before, you think we’d remember, after all."

Himchan is walking ahead, so there’s no way Jongup can see him flush as he feels heat rush to his cheeks, but still he swears he can feel Jongup's gaze burning into the back of his head as they go.

 

 

 

Himchan blames his lack of free time on working on the bar, but it’s only a half truth. He hasn’t got round to discussing any of this with his friends yet. Maybe because there hasn’t been an opportune moment, but probably because he isn't sure how he'd justify it.

Daehyun persuades him to take them both out for food, and to pay for it. Himchan doesn’t mind. Leaves his phone on the table when he goes to pay the cheque and returns to an overly innocent looking Daehyun.

"Not trying to pry," he says in a way that makes clear that that is indeed his intention, "But was I seeing things on your phone or did you just get a text from someone called Jongup?”

Himchan sucks in a breath as he presses the home button on his phone and watches a notification light up on the screen. It is, indeed, a text from Jongup. He tries to think of a lie, but nothing convincing comes to mind, and maybe that's for the best. "No," Himchan says.

"No what?"

"No, you weren't seeing things."

“And this Jongup is-- it isn't... Jongup, right? Like, Moon Jongup?”

“I don't know any others." Himchan locks his phone again. It’s not worth lying to Daehyun, he does enough of that to himself. And to Jongup.

Daehyun’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he speaks again. “What does this mean? Does he-- does he remember you? Did his memory thingy not work too? No, we'd have known wouldn't we?"

He leans a little further forward in his seat and his beer looks in danger of spilling over the side of the glass with the angle he's carelessly holding it at.

Himchan pushes at the glass to right its position. Takes a deep breath. "No, it worked."

"Right. Okay, so… What the actual fuck?" Daehyun isn't letting this go, and Himchan doesn't blame him. He'd want the details too, if their position was reversed. All of them.

"I’ve just been-- hanging out with him." He doesn't mention how many times.

"What?"

"Don't look at me like that." He feels a prickle of defensiveness at the back of his neck. "He-- he basically ambushed me in line for coffee and forced me to let him buy me a drink and then things kind of, um, went from there."

"Ambushed... Forced? That doesn't sound like Jongup."

"Okay,” Himchan says, “Fine. He asked me nicely and I couldn't say no."

Daehyun grimaces. "Did you actually try to?"

"You try saying no when Jongup is there looking at you all hopefully with his-- his _face_. And he's trying so hard to be nice to you. And you love him."

"Hyung..."

"No-- no. It's-- I knew you wouldn't understand. Fuck." He pushes the hair from his forehead and closes his eyes.

“Look, when you say ‘hanging out’, what exactly do you mean? Because I distinctly remember you two defining every date you went on as “hanging out” until you were basically glued at the hip.”

“I mean hanging out.” He scowls. “Like last time.”

Daehyun shoots him a look that says, you’re a terrible person and you’ve messed up. “I take it he doesn’t know that you’re his ex? Because--”

“I know it’s fucked up. Totally and completely, I know.” Himchan cuts in. “We did this because we didn't want to ever hurt each other. Or feel hurt. Or-- and for the money, because that was-- we were suffocating and.... And if I stop seeing him with no good reason now, he'll be hurt. I'll still be hurting him." Himchan stops talking. It feels too real when he’s saying it out loud.

"Won't it hurt you both more if you continue to play this weird charade thing? Because that's what this is." Daehyun is sat further back in his seat now, with an expression that looks like half judging and half concerned friend. Himchan is glad to see the second side, although he wonders if he even deserves to.

"Since when are you so wise and sensible? You sound just like Yongguk."

"He's rubbed off on me." Daehyun grins now, the judgement lessening a little. "In more ways than one."

Himchan rolls his eyes. "Okay, that is more like the Daehyun I know so well," he says, and then adds, "Please don't tell him about this, by the way. Don’t tell anyone, not until I sort this all out."

"You've managed not to blab about what I told you, so I guess I can return the favour." He looks up and Himchan feels a pang of guilt when he remembers almost letting slip to Youngjae. "I know I'm not usually the advice giver but..."

Himchan stands up. "Stop seeing Jongup, I know."

 

 

 

They're at Jongup's again, Himchan’s hand at the small of Jongup’s back as he reads through his final proposal for decor and wine list. Jongup is playing a game on his phone, repetitive music playing quietly as he plays.

Himchan is avoiding inviting Jongup back to his, to what was once theirs. It would be too weird, too real. He'd probably have trouble pushing the heavy feeling that what he's doing isn't fair, is basically lying by omission, away.

It’s getting more and more difficult to do, especially since his talk with Daehyun.

There is a local news story on the Taylor Institute memory erasure procedure on the television that they’re not really watching. About how far along it is. About what it means for the future of the newfangled Neurological Procedures aimed at the sector of society with money to spend on non-urgent cosmetic medical procedures like avoiding heartbreak.

Jongup glances at the TV and Himchan tries to think of something to say about it. Settles on, "Can you believe people would do that?" Even though that's stupid, because he can, because they did.

Jongup looks back down, still playing the game on his phone. "I did it," he says, as the segment ends and the weather report begins.

Himchan doesn't know what to do, feels his chest constrict. "You-- why?"

"I was a volunteer. For the second round of trials." He finally pauses his game, glances at Himchan. Himchan tries to look surprised. He is getting good at this, or he hopes he is, the amount he has to wear this expression these days.

"What was it like?" Himchan asks, dry throat, tight chest.

"It was like--" Jongup drops his phone in his lap and thinks for a moment. "It was like waking up from a dream you can't remember."

"Oh."

Jongup goes on, "Like, you know sometimes when you wake up and you know you had a nightmare, but can't remember what it was about? You just know it was bad?"

Himchan nods, feels his blood turn to ice. Doesn’t want to be a nightmare.

"Well, I don't remember the person I had erased, but I know they were-- they were good. The memories were good. I know that." A sad flicker of a smile crosses his face.

Himchan swallows. Asks, "Then why did you do it?"

"I guess it seemed like the right thing to do at the time." Jongup shrugs. "No break-up, a big pay-out... And the institute really shove it down your throat, what a great thing to be a part of it is. Once you show any interest they persuade you big time."

Himchan opens his mouth. Manages only to breathe, "Shit, that sounds... Intense."

Jongup shrugs. "As I said, I guess it seemed like it was a good idea at the time."

"And now?" Himchan looks at the TV, though he isn't actually watching the screen.

Jongup takes a while to reply. "Well, now I've met you.”

 

 

 

Himchan is distracted for the entire next day.

He knows that Daehyun was right, that he needs to tell Jongup the truth. And he wants to, but honestly? He’s scared, scared to hurt Jongup, scared to feel hurt himself, even if he will deserve it.

Himchan knows he owes it to them both to leave Jongup in full receipt of the truth. It’s hardly surprising that there doesn’t ever seem to be a right time to admit it.

He half watches the movie they meet up to see, half listens to Jongup on the walk back to his place. He’s working on autopilot, not wanting to break the spell of being together, but not quite being able to enjoy it either.

Jongup is underneath him, pressed against the sofa, when he can’t keep it in any longer. Pulls away from Jongup’s mouth and says, out of breath, “I did it too. The trial. I took part.”

 Jongup frowns.

“And the procedure didn’t work,” Himchan finishes. “I was meant to forget too, but I didn't forget at all.”

Jongup pulls himself into a sitting position and Himchan moves backwards, is almost off the edge of the sofa now, his heart beating out of his chest.

“Who were you meant to forget?” Jongup asks.

Himchan swallows. “You.”

He expects shock or anger or rapid fire questions, but is met only with a furrowed brow and silence.

Neither of them speak for a long time, until Himchan stands up. Says, “I’m-- I’ll leave now.”

And he does.

 

 

 

Himchan doesn’t hear from Jongup for three days, although he isn’t expecting to ever hear from him again if he’s honest.

When Jongup calls it’s nearing midnight and Himchan is at his bar, or what is going to be his bar, at least. It’s still pretty much an empty room with a bar at one end. He hasn’t been able to decide on the tables yet.

“Where are you?” Jongup asks.

Himchan listens for hints that Jongup hates him in his voice. Replies, “I’m at the bar, just working through some numbers… “

Jongup hums in approval. “Can I come and see you?”

“Why?” Himchan puts down his tablet, leans against the bar, staring down at a scratch that needs sand-papering out.

Jongup pauses. “Just-- Can I?”

 

 

 

When Jongup arrives, he doesn’t look angry. Tired, maybe. Subdued, but not angry. A flicker of hope alights in Himchan’s mind.

“I need to show you something.” Jongup leans against the other side of the bar, a small white card in his hand. He slides it across the top of the bar. “I found my discharge pack, with the name card in it.”

Himchan stares at the bold lettering that spells out his name. “Where did you have it sent?”

“My parent’s house.”

Himchan is sure Jongup hasn’t had time to go home and fly back in the last seventy two hours. “When did you get--”

“A few weeks ago, when I went to visit for the weekend.” Jongup meets Himchan’s eye. “It’s not like -- I wasn’t looking for it, but my father’s been clearing out his study and.. I didn't mean to read the name. I know you're not meant to, in case it upsets you or messes you up, but-- I did."

“So you knew I was-- and I didn’t… I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry.”

“I’m not mad.” Jongup reaches for his arm. “Life's too short.”

“You should be mad, though. I am, at myself. I was being selfish and stupid and burying my head in the sand.” Himchan tilts his head, thinking back to around a month earlier. “Hey, is that why you kept talking about déjà vu?”

Jongup smiles. “No! I did genuinely get it, I think. I don't know. But I was also trying to gage if we were in the same boat. I thought that if there was any tiny chance you'd found out too, maybe through Youngjae or something… Anyway, then you told me you’d taken part in the trial too, that yours hadn’t worked…”

“And you realised I’d been a selfish, lying dick the whole time?”

He smiles. “I was… Look, I can’t-- I can’t even imagine being in your position, so I’m not one to judge. I was-- surprised I guess, but that's all.”

Himchan wonders what he’s done to deserve someone so forgiving, so diplomatic and reasonable and kind in his life. Asks, “So, is it too late for me to make things right, properly right, with you?”

“Too late? I don’t know, what time is it?” Jongup cocks an eyebrow, pretends to look down at the time on his phone.

And Himchan laughs, runs a hand through his hair. Jongup always knows how to distract him from feeling shit. Always will, it seems.

“I'm sorry the procedure didn't work for you, Himchan." Jongup looks up. "If it's any consolation, it's an incredibly weird feeling -- missing someone so much when you don't even remember their face or their voice or any time you spent together."

“I’m pretty sure that memories of me are overrated,” Himchan says.

“I doubt it,” Jongup replies.

“Well, easily forgettable at least. You can’t exactly disagree with that.”

“Hey, I was a model test subject, thank you very much, hyung.” Jongup smiles. “You can’t try to take credit for my brain being like a colander.”

“I can’t believe that we’re talking about this right now.” Himchan shakes his head. “I also can’t believe you came back, that you wanted to hang out with me a second time, I still can’t get over that.”

“I lost my memories, not my eyes or my brain or… Anything else for that matter.” He blushes a little. It makes Himchan smile.

“You know, when we first met, you told me you thought the universe was trying to get us together.” He muses. “I think you must have been right after all.”

 

 

  

They start again slowly. Ask small questions, unravel little truths, bit by bit.

They lie on their backs on the expanse of grass in the park at the edge of the city. Himchan pushes his sunglasses down over his nose to watch Jongup’s eyelids flutter close and Jongup kicks out his legs, rests his arm over his face to cover his face from the sun and says, “This is nice.”

Himchan says, "The last time we were here, we'd been together for about a year. It was the hottest day of the year and I spent most of the afternoon complaining about my hair sticking to my forehead with the heat."

Jongup uncovers his face and opens one eye, reaches across to touch his hair. "I bet it still looked good."

“It didn’t.” Himchan pulls a face, catches Jongup’s hand as he pulls it away from Himchan’s forehead. Says, "I'm so glad your parents are both at home, again."

"Me too.” Jongup holds his hand loosely. “It’s the happiest I’ve seen my father in years.”

"And you're in grad school..." Himchan continues.

"Yeah.” Jongup squeezes his hand. “And you're going to be running your own bar.”

Himchan grins. "Maybe I'll even get that Porche one day."

"What?" Jongup asks.

"Oh, nothing." Himchan says, smiles to himself.

Because, it doesn't matter that Jongup doesn't remember every little conversation or every night together. It doesn't matter that he doesn't remember any of it at all, Himchan realises.

It only matters that he's lying here, looking up at the sky next to Himchan with a smile on his face.

 

 

 

Himchan asks Yongguk for his own Discharge pack. Tells him about Jongup, about New Year and about now. If Yongguk disapproves he doesn’t voice it. Just says, “Come over tomorrow night and I’ll dig it out of the cupboard for you.”

Yongguk hands over his Volunteer Discharge package and Himchan holds the envelope out in front of him, just staring down at it for a while. He shakes the contents out onto Yongguk's coffee table, reads the crisp white business card sized note that holds the name of the person he had asked the doctors to erase, along with the date.

"I don't know why I didn't just collect it earlier." He stares at the thick black lettering. "It's not like it needed to stay hidden, since I knew anyway."

Yongguk shrugs. "I knew you'd ask for it back when the time was right."

Himchan murmurs in agreement, flicks through the document he'd signed his memories away on eighteen months before. "Do you think it's stupid? That we're back together?"

"Why would it be stupid? People break up and get back together all of the time."

"True. We're just like any other couple." He puts down the document, starts to slip the papers back into the envelope. "Well, once the procedure ends trial and becomes a thing people can actually pay to get done, we will be. Maybe."

And it's a strange concept to grasp -- that soon wiping someone completely from their mind will be something that people, scorned or lovesick or lonely, will be able to pay to do. That once all of the glitches are smoothed over, once the procedure is 99.9 percent successful on all subjects, it will be available for public use.

Himchan tries to imagine choosing to do it again, and, although right at this moment in time he cannot imagine wanting it at all, he can't deny that the comfort of forgetting can be an irresistible thing to the human mind.

“So, now that we’ve aired my dirty laundry, I think I deserve to get to air yours.”

“By which you mean?”

Himchan sits back, folds his arms. "I mean, are you ever going to tell Daehyun that you actually care about him?"

Yongguk blinks, denies nothing, just replies, "He knows I care about him."

Himchan rolls his eyes. "He second guesses himself every five minutes; you need to talk to him."

Yongguk falters. "Himchan, he knows I’m not going do the whole big romantic gesture thing, so if that’s what he wants--"

"All that he wants is for you to tell him you care about him." Himchan tries out his most stern, most Sensible Adult look. It doesn’t feel natural. Changes it to a slight smirk and adds, "And he probably wants you to tie him up again, he really liked that. Wouldn't stop talking about it, I think I'm scarred for life."

Yongguk takes a drink, denies nothing, again, and, as Himchan watches the cogs turn in his head, he figures Daehyun will likely be less mopey next time they see each other.

 

 

 

Himchan isn't expecting guests that night, but Jongup is on his doorstep a little after eight; hair wet, raindrops running down the side of his face. He looks happy, nonetheless. “Can I come in?”

Himchan steps back. “What are you doing? Isn’t it thundering out there?”

“Yep, I think my shoes will need a whole year to dry out.” He frowns. “So, can I come in?”

“Sure.” Himchan leads him into the living room. “Are you here to be nosey?”

“I did used to live here,” Jongup points out as he slips off his shoes and places them under the radiator.

“True. It’s kind of weird seeing you here.” Himchan admits. Adds, “Good though, too.”

Jongup rocks on his heels, stares around the room. Finally says, “It’s a nice place. You picked well. It has a lot of stuff in it though…”

Himchan folds his arms. “Necessary stuff.”

“Hmm.” Jongup grins. “I think I’m getting déjà vu again.”

And Himchan gives him a pointed look. Says, “Shut up about déjà vu,” but he’s laughing as he says it.

They talk, Jongup asks a ton of questions and Himchan tries to answer them all, vows to tell him as much or as little as he wants to know about the two years of being with him that Jongup has forgotten.

They kiss too, and Himchan no longer feels even a tremor of guilt, because everything is laid bare and still, Jongup is here.

The thunder storm ends and Himchan’s clock tells them it’s almost one AM, and neither of them want to move, but they’ll have to do something, they can’t stay on the sofa all night.

Jongup bends down, retrieves his shoes from underneath the radiator and scrunches up his nose. “I can’t believe they’re not dry yet.” He holds them up.

"Maybe it's a sign from the universe," Himchan points out, only half joking.

Jongup puts the shoes back and says, “What? A sign that I should stay over?”

“Well, if that’s how you want to interpret it…” Himchan moves along to make room for Jongup on the sofa next to him. “We probably wouldn’t want to let the universe down.”


End file.
